


Chasing the Sun

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [45]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe-GTA V, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 17:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Gavin takes one look at Michael and starts running.





	Chasing the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Anon who asked for Mavin angst with the line "Well, looks like we're gonna be trapped in here for a while." :D?

Gavin takes one look at Michael and starts running.

Idiot stood there while some guys were shooting at him, but the moment he sees Michael he just starts hauling ass.

Crosses a busy street and disappears down an alley and the fuckers who were just trying to kill him turn to look at Michael. 

_Smile_ , and make a show of reloading as they move towards him.

“Really, assholes?”

The guy who seems to be in charge spits to the side, mouth twisting into this ugly little smirk as his cronies flank him.

So, this is a thing they’re doing.

Fucking _great_.

========

Michael doesn’t even remember how he got into this line of work. 

Doesn’t remember seeing it on the list of options back in high school when they had the career day bullshit. The assembly with the guest speakers and the guidance counselor sitting them down and talking to them about thinking about their futures and where they wanted to go in life.

This - 

Yeah.

Definitely _not_ on the list because he’s pretty sure someone would have had a coronary over it if “bounty hunter” had been up there with “banker” or “CEO of a multi-billion dollar business”.

No one wants their kid to turn out like him, after all. 

Some asshole running all over the place after other assholes for a living, and no shiny badge to go with it. Just a shitty little training program to get a stupid piece of paper, and then hoping he found the right people to aim him at other people like a bullet from a gun. (A really stupid bullet.)

It’s not the worst thing he’s ever done in his life, but somehow he ends up in goddamned _Los Santos_ anyway.

A city where half the bail bondsmen he accepts bounties from are working for one crew or another and using people like him to track down elusive assholes. Make it seem like they’re doing everything on the up and up, and acting oh so surprised when the bounties that get brought to them end up dead not too long afterward.

Which brings Michael to his current predicament and the asshole in the backseat of a shitty little car he had to hotwire because his _blew up_ , and the fucker will just not shut the fuck up. The weather isn’t helping matters any, fucking rainy season and coming down in buckets. Cutting down on visibility and making everything that much more difficult.

“Michael,” Gavin says, stupid British accent and wide eyes, like he really thinks that’s going to work on Michael again after all this time. “Michael, Can you ever be too fast for your own legs?” 

Michael is going to shoot the fucker before this is over, just fucking _wait_.

“Shut the fuck up!” Michael yells, tires squealing as they take a sharp right, the cars chasing them screaming past.

He doesn’t though, no.

Gavin just keeps talking as Michael slings a shitty Earth-loving hybrid along narrow streets and down alleys almost too small for it. (Paint job ruined, and the side-view mirrors torn off half a mile back. Bullet holes peppering the back windshield, and he hopes like hell whoever the car belongs to has one hell of an insurance company.)

Finally, finally, they lose the assholes chasing them and Michael breathes a little easier. Pulls into an alley and takes stock of the situation

They’re half a day out from Los Santos, and they’ve been running from people trying to kill them just as long. (Michael’s own fault for not reading the fine print on this one, because if he had he wouldn’t have touched it with a ten foot pole.)

Nasty fuckers who followed them both to a shitty little town just to put a bullet in Gavin’s head. (Honestly, after being stuck with the him for the last few hours, Michael gets it.)

“But Michael - “

Michael twists around to glare at Gavin, who just blinks stupidly at him.

“I swear to God,” Michael says, low and threatening and so goddamned done with everything. “If you don’t shut up I’m going to gag you and throw you in the trunk.”

Gavin tilts his head to the side as though he’s trying to gauge how serious Michael's threat is, and then - 

“Kinky.”

========

Michael works for a guy named Marvin. 

Sketchy as hell, but most of the bounties he sends people after actually live once they’ve been brought in and that’s the best Michael can expect in Los Santos. (Lets him sleep a little easier at night, even though he knows he’d do better for himself to move somewhere – anywhere else.)

Marvin’s a straightforward kind of guy. Doesn’t tolerate incompetence, and rewards people who do right by him, which makes this whole mess worse.

“Marvin, what the actual fuck?”

Marvin smoked a pack a day for fifteen years and it shows in the way he laughs, talks, anything. 

Michael rolls his eyes as Marvin laughs, raspy wheeze and some coughing, and how he hell he’s still alive Michael will never know.

“Kid,” Marvin says with a chuckle. “You asked for a challenge, so I gave you one.”

That - 

Yeah, okay.

That did happen, because there was a month straight where Marvin gave him stupidly easy jobs and Michael was losing his goddamned mind over it.

The thing is, he was expecting something with a better chance of him living long enough to get paid.

Didn’t expect his latest bounty to be one of the Fakes, for someone to be smart enough to try to grab him over some red tape bullshit, but here he is. (Didn’t expect it to be fucking _Gavin_ , because the last he knew the fucker was still living it up in Liberty City, which was the whole damn reason Michael ended up in Los Santos.)

“Jesus Christ,” Michael mutters, because this is just like the bastard. 

Marvin starts laughing again, which is just insulting and painful to listen to and he doesn’t even know the whole sordid story yet, so Michael hangs up on him. 

A thump sounds from the car’s trunk, and Michael sighs as he goes to let the asshole out.

========

Gavin’s giving Michael this wounded look, like he really thought Michael was joking about tossing him in the trunk.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” he says brushing imaginary lint off his shoulders. 

Michael rolls his eyes and tosses him his bag of takeout. Greasy burgers and soggy fries and he can’t wait to get back to Los Santos where they have decent fast food.

“I fucking warned you,” he says, because he did.

Gave him all the chances he deserved once he caught up to him, and he still insists on pushing Michael’s patience. (So fucking familiar it hurts.)

They’ve got a room at a shitty roadside motel, and Michael’s absolutely certain the little shit’s going to make a break for it before the night’s over and everything is terrible.

The television on with the sound turned down low, news teams on location to warn local residents to stay home if they can. Heavy rains causing mudslides over the highway and washing out bridges. Forcing people at lower elevations out of their homes and the officials are still dawdling over whether or not to declare a state of emergency over it.

Gavin makes this little noise, low, sympathetic to the people affected, and turns a look on Michael.

Hard to read, especially now when Michael doesn’t know what the hell the fucker’s thinking. (Used to be a time when he thought he did, thought he knew everything there was to know about Gavin, but that was a long time ago.)

"Well, looks like we're gonna be trapped in here for a while." 

Gavin says it like they’re on vacation.

Like Michael didn’t fucking hunt him down just to drag him back to Los Santos and the corrupt legal system there. Isn’t intending on cashing in on him like any other bounty he’s caught over the years. Like those fuckers who tried to kill them earlier aren’t still out there. (Michael doubts a little bad weather is going to deter them for long.)

Michael puts aside his own food and grabs his jacket because suddenly he’s not that hungry. A quick pat down to make sure the pack of cigarettes and his phone are still in his pockets and he goes to check Gavin’s handcuffs because he doesn’t trust the little shit not to have picked them by now.

Ignores the way Gavin’s so, so, still and quiet as he watches him, showing off his wrists and on his best behavior even though they both know it’s a lie.

“Michael - “

“I’m going to be right outside,” Michael says when he’s sure the cuffs are still secure. “Don’t fucking try anything.”

Gavin tries to catch his attention again, talk to him – reason with him, maybe – but Michael can’t stand to be in the room with him at the moment. (Too many memories, and he can’t afford that right now.)

========

Michael’s on his third cigarette when he makes the call.

The rain’s stopped for the moment and he can see the moon trying to peek through the heavy cloud cover. 

Everything is cold and wet and miserable and he’s no different. 

Whoever tracked Gavin down out here is still looking for him, and Michael’s not so stubborn that he thinks he can handle this on his own. Thinks he can keep Gavin alive all the way to Los Santos when they barely escaped the fuckers earlier, and in spite all the shit that’s happened between them, he’s never wanted the asshole dead.

So he goes out for a smoke, uses the respite to clear his head and _think_.

He knows who Gavin works for these days – hard not to, when that crew of his makes the news at least once a week – and has a few connections of his own he can call on.

People who’d be interested in what he has to tell them, might even let Michael live when all is said and done. (Better odds than the ones they’re facing at the moment, anyway.)

Being the kind of bounty hunter Michael is, he meets all kinds. People who do the same thing he does (more or less), even if they’re not on the same side of the law.

People who abide by certain rules, and if he did the same they would get along just fine. Professional courtesy or something else, and they’ve been careful not to cross any lines because it’s a long way down for both of them if they fuck up.

Michael smiles when the asshole picks up on the first ring, not so much a greeting so much as a demand. 

“Where the fuck is he?”

Michael flicks his cigarette away into the darkness and pulls the collar of his jacket up higher as he answers.

========

They met in a club years back, Michael and Gavin.

Some trendy new place in Liberty City where idiots people like Michael went to forget how shitty the rest of his life was going. Looking for a pretty face to go home with, and do it all over again some other night when life got to be too much.

But then there had been Gavin and some piece of shit who couldn’t take no for an answer. Kept harassing Gavin, hands in places they had no business being when Gavin kept telling the fucker no, and Michael hadn’t been so drunk he couldn’t step in to put a stop to it.

Got scraped knuckles and a bloody nose out of the whole thing and Gavin’s number shoved in the pocket of his jacket. Sweet little smile and a peck on the cheek with an order to call him when the booze was out of his system.

He didn’t, because Michael’s kind of an idiot, but that was fine because he saw Gavin again when he went back to the club the next weekend. 

Brightest light in the whole place and Michael the stupidest moth because he’d be drawn right in, and forgot what happens to moths when they get to close to something like that. (Didn’t care at the time though, because he was young and stupid and too deep in love to know the mistake he was making until it was too late.)

========

“I thought you quit,” Gavin says, soft, quiet. 

Watching Michael carefully from his spot on the bed, and Michael stomps down on the spark of anger that flares up.

Gavin got him to quit once, gave him damn good incentives. Flirty smile and wicked look in his eyes and goddamn, had it been worth it at the time. 

“Yeah, well,” he says, hanging his jacket on the back of a chair to let it dry. “I didn’t.”

Gavin looks like he wants to say something, about that. Probably bring up all his old arguments on the subject. How it’s not good for Michael’s health and all the ways it’s going to give him an early death if he’s not careful.

Too much history between them and Michael's too fucking tired to deal with any of it at the moment.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” Michael says, because whatever it is, he doesn’t want to hear it. “We’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

The mudslide should be cleared by morning, and they can get back on the road to Los Santos where Gavin won’t be his problem anymore.

========

Michael doesn’t know what wakes him up, but he’s reaching for his gun before his eyes are fully open.

“Don’t.”

The sound of a gun being cocked, and Michael freezes before he places the voice. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, and looks up to see the goddamned Vagabond looming over him in the dark. 

Gavin’s standing behind him, eyes darting between the two of them as though he’s worried what might happen.

Michael pulls his hand back and sits up. Slow and careful because he’d hate to spook the asshole with the gun aimed at him.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

The Vagabond studies him for a long moment, and laughs as he lowers his gun.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, and the bastard sounds amused. 

All smug and confident in the fact he has the upper hand here like it’s always been like that between them. 

Michael snorts, relaxing now that things are out of his hands. 

The Vagabond’s here to take Gavin back, and now all Michael has to worry about is getting his own sorry ass back to Los Santos, and everything can go back to the way it’s been.

Not quite what he’d been expecting when he called the bastard, but he should have figured the Fakes would be feeling a little paranoid over this. Worried about leaving Gavin that far out without anyone but a piece of shit bounty hunter looking after him.

“Handcuff him,” the Vagabond says, gesturing Gavin forward with a wave of his gun.

Gavin balks, turning a startled look on the Vagabond.

“What? We can’t just - “

“Geoff wants to talk to him,” the Vagabond says, and Michael tries not to flinch at that.

Living in Los Santos, you learn a few things. 

Fucking with the Fake AH Crew isn’t the smartest thing to do, even if it’s not intentional. The fact that they seem pretty fond of Gavin is great and all, but also all kinds of terrible for anyone who goes after him, so.

Yeah.

Michael’s fucked.

Gavin offers a quiet apology as he puts the handcuffs on, checks to make sure they’re not too tight and this close Michael can tell he's not enjoying this turn of events at all. 

“Hey,” Michael says, aware of the Vagabond watching them. “Guess this makes us even, huh?”

He smiles to take the sting out of it because he doesn’t hate Gavin no matter what he might think. He never did really, but there was a lot of hurt there for a long time and he’s still not sure he’s over it. 

“You’re a right bastard,” Gavin says, but he’s smiling so it can’t be that bad.

Michael looks to the Vagabond, stoic as always.

“How the hell did you get here so fast?”

The Vagabond cocks his head, and for a moment Michael has no idea what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, and then he hears it.

A chopper.

He shares a look with Gavin because they’ve heard helicopters flying by overhead all day long and well into the night. 

Local law enforcement and rescue crews. A few news choppers or two. 

No one’s going to think twice about another one flying overhead, and if they did, the Fakes have the kind of resources, connections, that would get them through without a problem. Although it’s bound to draw attention when it lands in the parking lot of a shitty roadside motel.

Which it seems to doing, the Vagabond gesturing for Michael to get up and get his shoes on as Gavin grabs the rest of their stuff.

“Nice,” Michael says, when the Vagabond escorts him to the waiting chopper. “Real subtle.”

========

Michael’s not so stupid that he didn’t know about Gavin back then.

Liberty City’s just as bad as Los Santos in a lot of ways. Gets its claws in you and drags you down off whatever high horse you came in on, or however that goes.

A lot of rot and corruption going on there too, people who start out with the best of intentions and end up making one compromise too many until they end up somewhere they shouldn’t.

And then there are the people like Gavin who’ve never been overly fond of the system set in place, all the petty little rules and laws and a penchant for chaos.

He always knew Gavin was into some shady shit, but since Gavin never broached the subject with him he didn’t feel the need to either. (Michael got involved in some shady shit himself back then, younger and stupider.)

Figured it was his way of allowing Michael the luxury of plausible deniability if the cops ever came knocking. That he was doing it as a courtesy, given Michael’s line of work. That it was just a thing they both knew, some unspoken understanding, but apparently it hadn’t been.

The look on Gavin’s face when someone found out where he lived and Michael caught a bullet in his shoulder saving his stupid ass. Apology after apology as Gavin kept him from bleeding out while they waited for the ambulance. 

Gavin looking like his world was ending and Michael too damn out of it at the time to realize why.

The cops and their questions and Gavin nowhere to be found, and Michael coming home to an empty apartment and a useless apology on a scrap of paper as a goodbye like it was just that easy.

========

The Fakes are known for being a brazen bunch of bastards. Go out of their way to taunt the cops and anyone else stupid enough to think they stand a chance of catching them, and the penthouse has to be the biggest _fuck you_ to them of all.

Hiding in plain sight less than a mile from where both the FIB and IAA are headquartered in Los Santos and about the furthest thing from subtle.

Great view, though, so he can’t blame them for that.

“So you’re Michael Jones.”

Michael glances over as Ramsey walks into the obnoxiously extravagant office, and catches one last glimpse of Gavin’s worried face before the doors close.

Just the two of them, then.

“One of them, yeah,” Michael says, because he’s an asshole and there are at least a dozen people running around Los Santos with the same name.

Ramsey snorts, hands shoved in his pockets as he wanders over the windows where Michael's taking in the view. 

“Bounty hunter?” Ramsey asks, and instead of the usual derision Michael’s used to hearing from people, there’s mild curiosity. 

Which, considering what the guy does for a living, makes sense.

Michael shrugs, reaches up to scratch his nose but the handcuffs make it a bit of a process.

“It’s a living,” he says, even though it really isn’t much of one.

He’s been careful to keep to the small fish here in Los Santos. 

Everyday guys who think they can get away with shit and don’t realize how badly they've fucked up until people like Michael track them down . Idiots who got caught up in the wrong crowd and got hung out to dry. Nothing like this, and he should have known when Marvin couldn’t stop laughing.

Ramsey nods, because it takes all kinds here in Los Santos.

“You know,” he says, and pauses like he’s not sure how to phrase it. “Gavin says you saved his life.”

There was a lot going on the last few days, it’s possible.

“I mean,” Michael says. “I wouldn’t have had to if the moron hadn’t gone out there to start with. What the fuck was that all about?”

Because really.

For a crew that prides itself on looking after their own and everything, they fucking lost Gavin.

And, okay, sure. Gavin’s a wily little shit who is one of the smartest people Michael’s ever met – but he’s also the stupidest, hands down.

Prone to making terrible impulse decisions and giving in to curiosity. To doing something unbelievably dumb _just because_.

He’s a horrible human being and these assholes are supposed to be watching his back, not letting him run off to the middle of nowhere for some godforsaken reason on his own.

Ramsey just _looks_ at him, and yeah, okay. 

Gavin’s an idiot, and if he wants to do something, nothing’s going to stop him from doing it.

“Point,” Michael says, and scratches his nose again because he has no idea what to do now. “Asshole needs a babysitter.”

========

It was a fucking _joke_.

========

It was a fucking joke, and yet not a week later there’s Michael keeping an eye on Gavin as he works one some project the crew has him on. 

After the whole mess in some backwater town, they have him staying at the penthouse in one of the spare bedrooms and Michael's a door down from him.

It’s the weirdest twist his life’s taken, this.

Not quite part of the crew and sure as hell not some regular Joe who hunts down assholes for a living - 

Well, other assholes, because there’s still Gavin.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Gavin trying to sneak out of the penthouse in the middle of the night to go who knows where without a word to anyone.

Michael’s been looking for something like this. Saw the way Gavin had gotten restless, twitchy. Going out for a Red Bull run the second night and claiming he needed fresh air to clear his head the third. Late-night B-movie marathon fourth night into the fifth morning, and thankfully catching up on sleep after that.

A handful of flimsy excuses here and there and the stress from building up on him until tonight. 

Everyone else gone and Michael the only other one in the penthouse. (That creaky floorboard Gavin always seems to forget about, and Michael recognizing the signs.)

Gavin flinches, like he’s expecting a blow and Michael moves to put more space between them. Feels a little sick that Gavin would think - 

“Oh, Michael, no, no, no,” Gavin says, fingers tangling in the sleeve of Michael's shirt to keep him from moving. “Michael, no, it’s not you.”

Right.

Gavin frowns, head cocked as he looks at Michael. 

“Did Geoff not tell you?” 

Geoff told him a lot of things, but Michael’s starting to think he didn’t tell him everything. (Of fucking course he didn’t.)

“Tell me what?” Michael asks, watching as Gavin rubs his arms, eyes skittering away from his.

“There was a crew,” Gavin says, tone light like he’s telling any old story and not something that has him flinching away from people, fingers pressing against the back of Michael’s hand. “I guess I made them mad.”

That - 

Gavin laughs, like what else is new, right, Michael? Gavin’s good at pissing people off, pushing buttons and the like.

Makes sense that he’d do the same with people who could kill him - _would_ \- if given the chance.

“It’s why Geoff wanted you to stay on so badly,” Gavin says, shooting him an apologetic look. “He liked your idea a little too much, I think.”

The Fakes are gearing up for a heist, and the others a busy seeing to the prep-work and regular crew business. Part of the reason Gavin had gone out on his own, and along came Gavin’s latest misadventure featuring Michael in a supporting role.

Michael stares at Gavin who isn’t quite looking at him. Isn’t quite apologizing for his crew basically kidnapping Michael.

At Gavin who flinches away from people expecting to be hit, and casually refers to that time he pissed off a crew because they happen to be related, and goddamn this little idiot anyway.

“It was a joke,” Michael says, untangling Gavin’s fingers from his sleeve and turning his hand over so he can hold it properly and doesn’t say a damn thing when Gavin squeezes, holds on tight. “But I guess this isn’t so bad.”

========

They talk.

Here and there, and it’s -

It sucks.

A lot of it sucks because the two of them are just real fucking stupid, and could have avoided a lot of the hurt they caused each other if they’d just acted like fucking adults for five fucking minutes and talked to each other.

It’s getting better, though.

Bit by bit, painful, award conversation by painful, awkward conversation.

The others help in their own way too, and Michael stops thinking of himself as an outsider after a while.

Ryan’s the first to make any real effort on that part. Just will not shut up about his stupid mini-gun until Michael demanded to know what was so fucking great about it. (He’s trying to figure out how to steal if from Ryan, or failing that getting one of his own, because Ryan wasn’t wrong about them.)

And where Ryan goes, Jeremy’s not far behind – fucking Battle Buddies, whatever that means – and fast cars and too much booze. Terrible jokes and someone who’s just a good friend to have.

Jack is just.

There.

It sounds shitty when he says it like that, but it’s the furthest thing from it. 

Jack’s there with his calm, and it helps more than Michael can say. (And hilarious as fuck when he plays on that to fuck with the others.)

And Geoff - 

God, what the fuck even with Geoff.

Papa wolf over his fucked up pack, and somehow also the worst human being in the world, and it’s honestly kind of awesome.

There are others too, misfits and outcasts and all of them out to show the world what people like them can do when properly motivated. (Fucking Lindsay, though. Goddamned weirdo.)

========

“Gavin! Get back here you little shit!”

Gavin squawks before he just fucking bolts for it, Michael's phone in his hands and this ridiculous series of panicked noises interspersed with swearing as he runs for his fucking life.

Michael catches glimpses of the others watching them in varying degrees of amusement as he passes them, and wonders if they realize that he’s really, actually going to kill Gavin this time. Just up and fucking murder the idiot for being a pain in his ass once and for all the way he’s been threatening to ever since they met.

“Michael no, Michael!” Gavin screeches when Michael finally corners him. Breathless with laughter and not bothering to put up a defense as Michael closes the distance between them. “I didn't mean any harm, Michael.”

Michael glares at him, and Gavin just smiles back. All wide and sunny and complete bullshit.

“Give me my phone, you menace.”

Wordlessly Gavin hands it over, that stupid smile still on his face as Michael checks to see what he did to it.

The last time something like this happened Gavin set alarms every hour on the hour and it took Michael forever to figure out how to turn them off. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it at first glance, but Gavin’s too damn clever by far and tricky as fuck. 

If he _did_ do something to Michael's phone, odds are good he won’t know what it was until it happens. 

Gavin’s still smiling, although it’s less ominous now. Just this small little thing Michael remembers from before, the one Gavin gets when he’s happy.

It’s hard to look at sometimes, because the stupidest things make him happy, sure, but sometimes - 

“I’m glad you stayed,” Gavin says, soft, quiet.

Too damn honest.

“I know - “

“Shut up,” Michael says, doesn’t want to hear another apology because he gets it, he does.

Figured it out a long time ago, even if it hadn’t helped at the time. 

Gavin has these moments where he thinks he’s doing the right thing, even when he really, really isn’t. Thinks he’s protecting someone and makes a decision that doesn’t include them and ends up making everything worse than it needs to be.

They're working on that too.

“Michael - “

Michael kisses Gavin, because it’s the only surefire way to get the idiot to shut up. 

========

The Fakes don’t know the first goddamned thing about explosives, and it’s going to get someone killed. (It’s a fucking miracle that hasn’t happened before now, really.)

“Look,” Ryan says, about to bullshit his way through an explanation. “Just trust me.”

That - 

“Uh, fuck no?” Michael says, hand on Gavin’s shoulder to keep him from going after the _bomb_ Ryan placed on the conference table like a fucking centerpiece. “Do you even know what you’re doing with that?”

Ryan opens his mouth – no doubt for more bullshit – and stops when he sees the glare Michael’s sending his way.

Geoff’s watching all this with an expression on his face Michael doesn’t like one goddamned bit.

Doesn’t matter, though, because Ryan is actually going to get them all killed if they go along with his plan.

“Okay, first of all,” Michael says, and points at Ryan’s stupid face. “Fuck you. And secondly - “

Michael’s met all kinds of people being the kind of bounty hunter he was, but he met a few characters back in Jersey before he completely lost control of his life.

Had a neighbor down the street who was a demolitions expert in the military and liked to tell brats like Michael stories. (Might have taught Michael more than a little about demolitions on the side because she didn't give a fuck, and what idiot kid doesn’t get excited about explosives?)

When Michael winds down several minutes later everyone is staring at him like they’re seeing him for the first time.

“...what?”

Geoff starts laughing and will not fucking stop, and Jack’s wheezing like an idiot. Ryan is honest to God _pouting_ , and Jeremy has fucking stars in his eyes.

Gavin - 

Gavin is grinning up at him so wide it looks like it hurts, and Michael still doesn’t know what’s so goddamned funny.

========

Well, _fuck_.


End file.
